


Precious

by heyweirdkid



Series: Precious [1]
Category: Clapham Junction (2007), X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Charles You Slut, Charles is a Stalker, Domestic Violence, First Time, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Hurt/Comfort, Jailbait - Freeform, M/M, Parental Alcoholism, Semi-Public Sex, Sharing a Bed, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-07-23
Updated: 2012-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-21 16:46:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/227395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyweirdkid/pseuds/heyweirdkid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fifteen-year-old Charles Xavier finds a welcome distraction in his neighbour, Erik Lehnsherr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Precious and Fragile Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DistractibleDingo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistractibleDingo/gifts).



> This is the first ever piece of fanfiction that I have ever written ever. What started out as a Clapham Junction AU writing exercise has turned into a fic with darker undertones than I had intended when I first started writing it.
> 
> Title is taken from the song Precious by Depeche Mode.

The first time Charles notices him is when his mother points him out.

She's holed herself up in her room for a few days now with the bottle she keeps in her sock drawer, the one that he pretends not to know about and isn't allowed to mention. He is sitting in his bed, a book propped open lying on top of his lap when she walks in. He looks up, unable to hold back the surprise that she has ventured out of her room, and and sees the laundry basket attached to her hip.

It has been too long since he has had to take care of his own laundry, as well as his mother's, if he ever wanted to see a clean pair of underwear. The thought that his mum was actually going to do the washing was almost ridiculous.

And against his better judgement, Charles feels his heart lift. It's moments like these when he allows himself to hope that things are going to get better. That maybe Mum's going to leave Kurt and it's just going to be the two of them again but they'll be happy and Charles won't have to keep hiding the bruises that somehow magically appear whenever Cain's home. But it also makes it all the more harder when his mum relapses and Charles is hit with the cold bucket of reality, that this was just how things were going to be and he should just get used to it. Because these days, the ones where Charles can almost hope for a future, are getting fewer and farther between.

Charles shakes his head, banishing the thoughts running across his mind, and regains his composure. He moves to deposit his dirty laundry into the basket and pauses to stand beside his mum, who is by the window, staring at the flat across his room.

It has stood empty for about a month now, and Charles has never given the place much thought. But now he can see an older man sitting by the window, languidly enjoying a fag. He hasn't bothered to put on a shirt and even from his poor vantage point, Charles notes that the man is rather attractive, if scruffy-looking men in their mid-30's are your type (Charles isn't exactly sure what his type is). A small smile tugs at his lips as his eyes trail on the man admiringly.

"I should get you new curtains," his mum says, fingering his flimsy old ones pensively before her hand drops to her side. Charles is taken aback at her sudden interest in his well-being. It's more than he can say about her since marrying Kurt.

His lips purse as he remembers a time when she used to be beautiful, when she used to have such an easy smile and laughter that rang throughout the house. But it's all just a distant echo from his childhood now. It's been a while since Charles has seen his mother happy.

He pries his eyes away from the window to look at his mother, notes the dark circles under her eyes, the streaks of premature grey that are a stark contrast to her dark hair so similar to his own ( _he's taller than her now, when did that happen?_ ).

Charles reaches out tentatively and rests his hand on her shoulder. Her head snaps toward him and there is a flash of something in her eyes before it is gone as suddenly as it appeared and, with a huff, she leaves with the laundry basket.

He settles himself by the window, gazing out where the man was now sprawled on a ratty old couch, eyes intent on his television screen and completely unaware of the way Charles is staring appreciatively at him.

\--

Charles comes home from school to new curtains that offer considerably more privacy than his previous ones had. He is surprised to find his mum doing dishes in the kitchen. The scene looks so deceptively normal that there is that niggling of hope again that he tamps down.

"Never know what kind of perverts are looking through our windows these days," she says when he asks about it. The thought of his mother doing some shopping... Charles really doesn't see the harm in allowing himself this tiny flicker of hope.

He walks over to his mum and gives her a peck on the cheek. She stiffens a bit under his touch but otherwise doesn't acknowledge the gesture. And, just like that, the flicker is gone and Charles turns to head back up to his room. He digs around his backpack until he finds what he is looking for. He throws open his new curtains, eyes automatically going to the flat across the street. But one look tells him that the flat across the street is empty.

Disappointed, he yanks open his drawer and crams his newly-purchased binoculars inside. Perverted neighbours indeed. His mum ought to worry more about what goes on under her own roof, if she only stayed sober enough to continue to care.

\--

Charles is sitting at a table all to himself at the library. He doesn't really feel like going home just yet, the prospect of spending the rest of the afternoon with his mother particularly unappealing today, after he'd woken up the previous night and he could smell the alcohol permeating from under her bedroom door. 

He idly chews on the rubber of his pencil and looks up when he hears someone dragging a chair a few tables across. He is irked that his concentration should be so interrupted but then draws a deep breath when he sees that it's the man who lives in the flat across his house. The one he hasn't been watching from behind dark blue curtains for over a week now.

It is the first time that Charles has seen him up close. And the first time that he has seen him in more than a pair of old boxers and mouldy t-shirts. 

The fact that he is wearing a pair of tattered jeans and a loose t-shirt that hangs from his thin frame, hiding the wiry muscles that Charles knows is beneath the layer of clothing, does not make him any less attractive to Charles's eyes. 

It's impossible for Charles to focus on his homework after that. He steals a glance at the man as he reaches for a book on the top shelf and Charles licks his lips at the sliver of skin that shows above the band of his jeans where his shirt rides up.

Charles glances quickly back down at his notebook when the man returns to his seat to grab his backpack before making his way out of the library, book tucked neatly under his arm. 

Charles takes his cue and hastily scoops his own things into his own bag, almost tripping on his own feet as he follows in the man's heels. An elderly woman stands between Charles and the man as he checks out the book. The receptionist is typing away at her keyboard and Charles hears her ask, "Name, sir?"

"Erik Lehnsherr." A barely-suppressed shiver runs up Charles's spine at the lightly-accented voice that will become the object of his fantasies. 

Erik Lehnsherr. A smile tugs at the corners of Charles's mouth. The name suits him, Erik Lehnsherr.

"Excuse me, sir? Can I help you?"

Charles blinks, suddenly aware that the receptionist is directing the question at him. "No." He slinks away from the queue and starts to head home. He spots Erik not too far away and Charles keeps his distance. He doesn't want Erik to think that he's stalking him. That would just be bloody creepy. 

"Erik," he says aloud and smiles to himself, liking the sound of it.

\--

When Charles wakes, there is a warm body curled up beside him. His eyes flutter open and the corners of his mouth tug into a smile.   


"Hello, Raven."

She nuzzles even closer to him and Charles can smell her shampoo as he scoots closer to her. His smile quickly disappears, though, when he sees the bluish-purple bruise at the back of her neck. His fingers brush the area lightly but Raven swats his hand away and they lie that way for a while before Raven breaks the silence.

"You're a complete and utter bastard, you know that?" she says even as her face is buried into his pillow, her blonde hair a tangled mess on his sheets. Charles nods but remains silent. He has a fair idea why she is upset with him and he's learned long ago to let her speak her mind uninterrupted or face dire consequences. Raven sits up on the bed and there is a flash of annoyance in her eyes.

"I can't believe you made me break into your room just to see you again. It's been weeks, Charles,  _weeks_! What have you been doing holed up in your room, anyway?" She jumps out of the bed and stands by the window. Her hand brushes the binoculars that Charles had forgotten to replace in his drawer the night before. She glances at them and picks them up, looking out of Charles' window.

"I was waiting for you at the library the other day," Charles offers a bit unhelpfully as he pulls on a t-shirt and some jeans. Raven doesn't even look at him as she fidgets with the little knobs on top of the binoculars.

"Liar. I was there. You weren't." Oh. That's right. He'd left early after Erik showed up.

"I mean, seriously, Charles---" Raven cuts herself off and a small sound escapes her lips. Charles looks out the window and he can just make out Erik watching TV in his flat. He's barechested as usual, and he hasn't shaved but he still looks gorgeous. Raven smirks as she continues to look out the window.

"So this is why you've been blowing me off." She sounds appreciative before her voice takes on a teasing tone again.

"God, Charles! You're such a creepy little fuck. You know that, right?"

Charles doesn't even dignify that with an answer as he stands beside Raven. She's still looking through the binoculars and elbows him in the stomach.

"You've got taste, though. I'll give you that. He's fit." She hands the binoculars over to him and it's Charles' turn to raise it to his eyes. Raven nestles her head on the crook of his shoulder and sighs.

"So are we just going to perv on your neighbour all day or what?"

"I am not perving on him, Raven. I am merely observing his everyday comings and goings. Very closely." Raven rolls her eyes at him before swatting him playfully with his own textbook.

"Come on, I'm bored." Charles doesn't have to tear his eyes away from the window to know that she is now pouting.

"Do you have a better idea?" he asks and looks away from the binoculars then. He recognises the gleam in her eyes as she looks at him. It was the sort of gleam that got him into trouble more often than not.

"Emma Frost from next door is away on holiday. Let's crash her pool."

The sensible part of him is telling him to say no. This is a bad idea. They are most likely going to get caught and then turned over to the local authorities. He and Raven already have a file at the police station, mostly for underage drinking and being caught under the influence. They don't need to add breaking and entering into the list. So he is horrified to hear himself say, "Sure." 

Raven wavers, suspicious that she hadn't had to force him to go along with her plan, but she's not going to question this stroke of luck. She lets out a gleeful little laugh and drags Charles out of his room and through the front doors of his house, leading the way.

\--

Raven receives a text from one of her mates about a party that Angel Salvadore is throwing at her place so, naturally, she and Charles have to go. Still dripping wet from their dip, they are giggling into each other at the bus as the other passengers are giving them wide berth. But Charles and Raven don't really notice them, they are in their own world and nobody and nothing can ease its way into the little contented bubble that they have crafted for themselves.

The music is already blasting when they reach the address on Raven's phone and there are people that Charles knows and people he doesn't know streaming in and out of the open front door. Charles somehow finds himself with a bottle of vodka and he and Raven retreat into the back to enjoy it between themselves, away from the general chaos. 

The bottle's already half empty when a ginger (Sean, if Charles remembers correctly) sits himself beside Raven, eyeing the vodka pensively.

“Wanna trade?” Raven asks, jerking her head at the spliff he's holding. Sean jerks, as if he'd forgotten about her and Charles. He silently hands over the spliff and takes the vodka. Raven takes a hit before handing it to Charles. There is a moment's hesitation, where it rests between his fingers, burning lightly, before he raises it to his lips and takes a puff before returning it to Sean.

"Sean? There you are! I've been looking all over for you." Charles recognises the blonde as Alex, an exchange student from America. He and Charles go to the same school but usually hang out in different social circles.

“Dude, I thought you were gonna be my wingman tonight.”

“But it's so nice here.” Sean grins at Alex and offers him the joint. Alex looks dejected but he leans on the wall anyway and takes a drag. 

It isn't long before they are joined by three others: Hank, who goes to Raven's school and Charles is amused to find that Raven is flirting with him, Armando, who came looking for Alex and Sean but was easily roped into the cozy little circle, and Angel Salvadore. Apparently, the party had started off as a quiet night between her and her girlfriend but she's fucked off with a boy and now Angel just wanted to get high and get drunk and forget tonight ever happened.

By the time Charles and Raven are able to drag themselves away, they can't walk straight and they're both giggling like school girls. Not that that's much of a difference from how they usually are around each other. But Charles makes sure that Raven gets home safely, though it's been a while since Raven has been able to call her home a safe haven. Charles kisses the top of her head and wishes her good night before stumbling towards his own house.

\-- 

Even through his drunken haze, Charles can hear the yelling. He's not surprised, Mum and Kurt have been at each other's throat for a while now. Specifically, ever since they moved in together. Why they even decided to get married is beyond Charles. But he frowns as it dawns on him belatedly that Kurt must be back from his "business trip" and, with him, his son Cain. Charles scowls at the hateful Toyota as he passes it on the driveway. He tries to shake the drunkenness away from his head and barges into the house. 

The yelling is loudest in the living room so he heads for the general area.

“I BLOODY WELL WILL KICK YOU OUT OF THIS HOUSE IF YOU WON'T TELL ME WHERE YOU'VE BEEN!”

"FOR GODSSAKES SHARON I TOLD YOU I WAS GOING ON A BUSINESS TRIP, DIDN'T I?!”

“BUSINESS TRIP? I CALLED YOUR OFFICE. THEY LAID YOU OFF LAST MONTH.”

“ARE YOU CALLING ME A LIAR?”

“A LIAR AND A CHEAT, YOU BLOODY BASTARD!”

Charles walks in on them just in time to see Kurt smack his mum. She hits the couch with a sob and Charles is filled with a burning rage. Even though there are times when she's a difficult woman to live with, she's still his mum and he's not going to let Kurt or anyone else hit her.

“Hey! You leave--- You! Leave her alone, you... you... bastard!” Charles winces as his grasp of vocabulary is just out of reach, the alcohol taking its toll on his neural functions. Kurt turns around, face red with fury, his hand still outstretched. One look at Charles, at how he's struggling to keep himself upright, and his expression turns even darker.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Kurt mutters under his breath but he doesn't leave from his spot hovering above Charles' mum. She looks up from the couch, sees Charles and glares at him.

“Go to your room, Charles. This is none of your business.” Charles grits his teeth and shuts his eyes, trying to will the alcohol away from his system. Normally, he would have slunk away to his room and bury his head in pillows, trying to shut out the screaming. Not tonight. Tonight, he's had just a little too much to drink. Tonight, he wasn't going to stand for it.

“Of course it is, Mum. He's. Beating. You. Of course it's my sodding business!” Kurt is advancing towards him and, with some stroke of luck, Charles is able to deflect the backhand directed at him. But then a fist comes flying from the other direction and suddenly, Charles is seeing stars and he can hear the blood rushing in his ears.

“OUT! OUT OF MY HOUSE!” Kurt is holding him by the collar. Charles can feel his feet dragging behind him and then Kurt is throwing him out the front door.

 _It's our house, you bastard! Mine and Mum's!_ Charles wants to shout back at him, but manages to bite back his tongue. He doesn't want to wake the whole neighbourhood, if they haven't already. He stumbles across the street and glowers at his house before a wave of nausea washes over him and he is throwing up into the gutter. Charles can feel bile rising in his throat and he spits it out, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth.

He starts at the sound of footsteps shuffling behind him and he whirls around to see Erik Lehnsherr cocking his head at him. The expression on his face is impassive but Charles can tell that he has been standing there long enough, if not to witness everything then to hear everything. Fuck, the whole neighbourhood would've heard them. Could this night get any worse?

\--

Erik flicks his cigarette onto the pavement, his eyes never leaving Charles. His face is blank and Charles suddenly wishes he could read minds, if only to know what Erik is thinking. He has fantasised about this moment for days, come up with hundreds of different scenarios where finally meets Erik (and maybe gets to shag him). But Charles has to admit that meeting Erik when he is pissed, sporting a black eye and thrown out of his home, has never made his list.

Erik's takes a halting step toward Charles, his hand outstretched. Charles forces himself to tear his gaze away from Erik's face and his eyes dart down to his hand, and sees a handkerchief. It is only then that Charles can feel the telltale wetness of his cheeks and that he is holding back a sob. It's silly, but Charles is grateful that the lone lamplight in their street doesn't give enough light for Erik to see the blush creep into Charles's cheeks.

“Th-thank you.” Charles takes the handkerchief and wipes his tears away, wincing as the cloth brushes against the sensitive flesh under his right eye. He makes to return the handkerchief but Erik takes a step back, shaking his head.

“Keep it.” He shifts his weight to his other foot, looks a bit hesitant, before pointing to Charles's black eye and adds, “You should put some ice on that.”

Charles's hand reaches up to brush the bruise reflexively and he flinches again. Yeah, that's going to turn a lovely shade of purple in the morning. “Yes, you are... quite right.”

He looks down the street, contemplating his options for the remainder of the night. He can always climb into Raven's room and spend the night there. It's not like it will be the first time he's done so. But he doesn't want to wake her. She's probably fast asleep by now and although he can hear her telling him not to be silly and that he can always come to her no matter what time it is or how tired she is, Charles can't bring himself to disturb her.

Or he can try and find a cafe that's open until the morning. Charles checks his watch and sees that it's nearly 2AM. He won't have to wait long and maybe he'll even be able to take a nap before crawling back home.

Then again, he can sneak into his own room. But he can still hear Kurt and Mum at each other's throats. By his estimate, they'll still be arguing for another few minutes before they fuck and fall asleep. That's usually how these things go. And the walls in the house aren't particularly soundproof. Charles doesn't think he'll have the stomach for the Kurt-and-Mum breakup/makeup routine.

And then there is also the fact that he would most likely run into Cain, who doesn't need any excuse to pick on him. He and Kurt have been out for a few days and Charles has no doubt in his mind that his bastard of a stepbrother will be itching to get back to his favourite pasttime.

He shoves his hands in his pockets and sighs. Cafe it is, then.

“Do you... have somewhere you can go?”

Charles starts at hearing Erik's voice and turns to face him. It's probably just his imagination but he thinks that Erik might be looking a bit flustered.

"Not exactly,” Charles says honestly before a thought strikes him: he can take this opportunity and use it to get into Erik's flat. And why not? Everything's gone to shit already. He might as well have fun while he's at it. “I don't suppose you've an ice pack or anything?"

Erik stiffens and narrows his eyes at Charles. "Yes. Though I hardly think... I mean, it's late."

“I suppose.” Charles thinks he imagines it but he hears Erik take in a sharp breath and muttering something in a language that sounds vaguely German. He's about to turn away when Erik speaks up.

“Alright.”

“Pardon?”

“I'll give you something for that black eye. But only that. And then you're on your own.”

It takes a moment for the words to register properly. It's not exactly a smile, but at least Charles isn't scowling anymore.

\--

Erik makes him wait outside the flat. But Charles doesn't mind as he looks up at the rusty brass number declaring flat 19B. It isn't long before Erik reappears with a bag of peas. “Here.”

He doesn't wait for a response and he's about to shut the door when Charles' foot takes on a mind of its own and thrusts out to stop the door closing. He gasps at the sudden flash of pain that sears up his leg and Erik glowers at him.

“ _Blöde Sau_! What do you want from me, kid?”

“I...”

The look on Erik's face is enough to make Charles think twice. Maybe he shouldn't be dicking around with this guy. After all, what does Charles actually know about him, other than he's his gorgeous neighbour and Charles can't possibly resist the man from such close proximity?

“Move.”

Charles doesn't know why he hasn't noticed before but, from up close, Erik's really tall. He has to crane his neck upwards just so he can look into those harsh blue eyes that the binoculars he has hidden in his room can never do justice.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Charles knows that he's meant to be paying attention to the pain in his foot as Erik attempts to shut the door again but it's very easy to get distracted when he's close enough to see the bead of prespiration roll down one side of Erik's face. Charles is suddenly overcome with the desire to lick it, taste Erik's skin, breathe in his scent---

The pain in his foot screams for his attention and Charles blinks, crashing down into the present. “I'm sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me.”

“Get lost.” Erik grabs his shirt and is about to shove him away when there is a raucous yell. Erik's eyes dart around the deserted hallway, footsteps pounding up the stairs. There is a flash of panic in his eyes before he yanks open the door and he drags Charles inside.

There's the sound of muffled footsteps thudding outside Erik's door, a cackle of laughter and excited chatter as a group of teenagers pause at the landing. But none of these are registering in Charles' brain as he is pressed flush against Erik, Erik's breath ghosting over the top of his head and Charles can see his muscles rippling as he braces against the door and he wants to trace his finger along Erik's clenched jaw, down his neck, his waist, under his shirt, his lower back...

Charles doesn't know how long they stand like that, with Erik trapping him, his back to the door and their breathing slow and heavy.

He doesn't expect it when Erik's hand tentatively reaches for his and Charles can feel his cheeks growing warm, the feeling of skin on skin is electric and he is already heady from the liquor in his system and the sudden humidity in Erik's flat that threatens to overcome him.

Charles' eyes shut close expectantly and he is surprised when he feels something cold on his face. Oh, right. The peas. His good eye flutters open and his heart is pounding in his chest when he sees the look on Erik's face, concerned but doing his best to hide it. There is a momentary softness in his eyes and Erik's hand lingers just for a moment longer on Charles' than is absolutely necessary before he pulls away.

The sudden loss of physical contact is almost unbearable and it's all Charles can do to stand there, with his back to the door, supporting him. He's not quite sure that his knees will be able to keep him upright if they carry on trembling like that.

An awkward silence hangs between them, broken only by sudden outbursts from outside. Charles wonders idly what exactly they're doing out there but if it's keeping him inside the flat, he doesn't really mind.

Charles' eyes glance around the hallway, one of the rooms in Erik's flat that isn't visible from vantage point. There's not really much to it though, the flickering light reveals peeling wallpaper, a threadbare rug. It's the scrap metal sculpture pushed to one corner that catches his attention, though. The sculpture is a model of a shark's jaw, all jagged teeth and sharp edges, the metal looking sharp ennough to pierce human flesh as easily as if it were butter. Charles takes a step towards it, running his hand along the teeth lightly.

When Erik makes no move to say anything, Charles decides to take matters into his own hand. “I'm Charles, by the way. Charles Xavier.”

Erik studies him for a moment before his shoulders visibly slump in resignation. “Erik Lehnsherr.”

 __

I know _,_ Charles almost says before he bites down the words and says instead, turning back to Erik, “I've seen you at the library.  
Charles thinks he sees a flash of recognition in Erik's face before his expression hardens again. And Charles decides to try a different approach: “Do you think I could have a glass of water? My head's really doing me in.

For a moment, Charles thinks that Erik's going to refuse and ask him to leave again (forcefully make him leave, more like, and with good reason) but then he silently turns and heads for the kitchen and Charles is suddenly struck with a belated realisation: He is inside Erik's flat. Alone. With Erik. He doesn't even bother to suppress the shiver of delight that works its way up his spine, warming him with the mere thought.

\--

It’s hard to stay sullen when he’s finally inside Erik’s flat. Not that Charles has been plotting this from the moment he saw Erik from his bedroom. Charles’ lips quirk into a grin as his good eye skates over the room.

In one corner is the small bookcase filled with odds and ends. Charles walks over to it and sees some trinkets, the kind that you’d pick up at the flea market, and some photographs of Erik with some of his mates and one with him and an older couple who Charles presumes is his mum and dad. He can see the resemblance, at least. On top of the weathered coffee table are ratty old magazines and then there’s the mysterious stain on the floor that Erik never seems to take notice of, the area rug that the previous owners had left behind and the small television set that Erik is always sitting in front of.

Charles has memorised all these already by heart, of course. From all those days of watching Erik, he can probably make his way around this room blindfolded.

He has to keep from pinching himself. He still can’t believe this is real. That he is actually  _here_ , after endless days of being a quiet (if avid) observer to Erik’s life.

There is one thing about the room that his binoculars don’t quite reveal though, something that has piqued his interest for a while now. Charles makes his way over to the mysterious door to the side of the room where Erik disappears to when he’s not in front of the telly and tries the doorknob. He lets out a little sound of surprise as the door creaks open. His hand fumbles for a light switch to reveal a small room.

It was probably a storage closet before but now there’s a small workbench to one side and a paint-splattered cloth that covers a part of the floor. An easel is folded in one corner and Charles’ eyes fall on a cloth draped over a pile of canvas paintings (at least, Charles assumes they are canvas paintings judging from their general square shape), carefully leaning on one wall. He walks over to them, about to lift the cloth covering when he hears a cough from behind him. Charles drops the cloth as if scalded and twists to face him.

“Mr Lehnsherr! I was… just… Um…” Charles looks from Erik to the glass of water. “Thank you.”

Erik watches while he drinks the water greedily and Charles can’t exactly say that he feels uncomfortable under his scrutiny. He shoots Erik a sloppy grin and turns his attention back to the paintings.

“So are you an artist, then, Mr Lehnsherrrrrr?” There are way too many “r”s but Charles can’t help the slur as the name rolls off his tongue, the alcohol working its way slowly to the synapses of his brain that monitored speech.

Charles shouldn’t be surprised at this new piece of information about Erik, really, considering that Erik spends a lot of time at home so he obviously doesn’t hold a job that requires him to leave his flat. But it was just that Charles hasn’t really given much thought to Erik’s profession as most of his musings about Erik up until then had not strayed far from his physique.

He moves to attempt to lift the cloth again, fingers ghosting over the fabric but Erik is behind him in a flash, seizing Charles’ wrist before he can even touch it.

“Let me go.” Charles pouts as he tries to tug himself free from Erik’s grasp. But Erik is unyielding as he grips Charles’ hand even tighter.

“Are you always this meddlesome, Mr Xavier?” Erik asks, his voice a low rumble in Charles’ back. And Charles finds himself leaning into that broad chest. Erik’s chin brushes the top of his head, Charles leaning into the touch and Erik makes no move to pull away.

“Mmm… No, I’m afraid you haven’t caught me in my best behaviour.” He is pracitcally nuzzling into Erik now and then he feels himself being whirled around and the room is spinning about him.

“Wheeee!” Charles he giggles, his unruly mane whipping around him.

Erik’s hand clamps over his mouth, eyes flashing and he hisses at Charles, edging even closer. “Shhh! Do you want the whole building to hear?”

Charles is barely listening, his blue eyes focussed on Erik’s mouth moving a mere few inches away from his and, through the haze of alcohol and the blood rushing through his head, he thinks he hears Erik draw in a ragged breath.

“Erik.” His voice is trembling but he feels a sort of release to be able to address Erik, finally. To say his name out loud somewhere other than the confines of his thoughts or longingly to himself as he lies in his room in the dark with the sheets curled around him, sweat dripping into his eyes, his hands sticky as he drags them on the sheets and wishing for Erik’s long, deft fingers on him instead of his own clumsy digits.

Something seems to click inside Erik and he finally does pull away. Charles hears a whimper and is surprised to find that the sound came from him. He reaches out to Erik, fingers brushing Erik’s forearm. Erik stills, eyes intent on an imaginary speck of dust on the floor.

“Please, Erik.” He doesn’t mean to plead but his voice comes out needy anyway.

“Will you look at me?” Charles moves to cup his other hand under Erik’s jaw but Erik shrinks away.

“Don’t.”

Erik’s voice is deliciously rough and it takes Charles a considerable amount of effort to draw back. Considering that Erik hasn’t thrown him out of the flat yet, it’s almost too much for him as his brain works overtime, wonering why it is that Erik hasn’t already kicked him out, and Charles thinks he already knows why, but he needs to be sure.

“You’ve noticed me, too.” It wasn’t a question and Charles’ heart skips a beat as he takes Erik’s silence as a confirmation. He should probably run away and snuggle into the familiar comfort of Raven’s bed and forget tonight ever happened. If he was smart, he would do just that. He can even hear Raven’s voice, thick with worry as she sees the mark that Kurt has left on him and hears about Erik and being inside Erik’s flat. And Charles is almost tempted to go and lose himself in Raven’s warm and reassuring embrace.

But Charles isn’t even going to blame the alcohol for the fact that he wants to stay. He wants to stay with Erik, who he barely even knows but, somehow (and maybe it’s the alcohol talking here) he feels safe here, too. He knows that there’s no logic to this, but Charles ignores that as he traces down Erik’s arm until he is holding onto Erik’s hand.

“It’s not wrong to take what we both want.” His voice is a whisper and Erik stiffens under his touch. Charles stands up on his tiptoes and closes his eyes expectantly but then his eyes snap open again as feels Erik wrenching away from him, his hands on Charles’ shoulders, holding him at arm’s length.

“Don’t.” Erik says again, his voice ringing clearer now as he meets Charles’ gaze.

“I don’t understand—” Charles tries to shift closer to Erik but his grip is firm. Charles’ lips turn down into a frown as he looks up at Erik.

“Charles… don’t. Okay?” Erik sighs at the gutted look in Charles’ face as his mind tries to sift through the rejection. He can’t have misread the signs. It isn’t all just isomething that he’s been obsessing about, it’s not all just in his head. Charles isn’t the only one here who can feel the connection. Erik felt it too, he’s sure of it. A million questions start to rush to his head as he wonders about Erik’s conflicting actions and Charles holds his head as it starts to ache again.

“Can you… Just… Here, sit.” Erik leads Charles away from the room and towards the couch, nudging him gently so that he is sitting down. Charles is too tired and too dazed to resist as he settles himself down into an Erik-sized pocket in the upholstery. He can understand what Erik sees in the old thing now. Despite its looks, it’s actually quite comfortable. Charles wiggles a little so that he is snuggled into the couch, his eyelids heavy.

“Hey! Hey, don’t fall asleep!” Erik crouches in front of Charles and snaps his fingers in front of him. Charles jumps, his eyes fluttering open momentarily but his gaze is unfocussed and he barely even registers Erik’s face.

“Hmm? No, of course not. Let me just…” Charles lets out a yawn, “rest my eyes a little and…”

“You can’t sleep here.” Erik tries to shake Charles awake but he’s already knocked out in the manner of the truly plastered and Erik knows that any more attempts at waking would just be futile.

Erik pushes off from the floor and sighs. This night… has been interesting, to say the least. He should’ve known the boy would be trouble from the moment he laid eyes on him that day at the library. He’s tried so hard since to forget the ache in his chest when he first noticed how bright blue Charles’ eyes are, the way his hair flops about his head, his bright red mouth that turns down into a frown when he’s concentrating.

And now, Charles (because that was his name, but Christ Almighty how had he gone so long without knowing?) practically barrels into his life and everything is in shambles and he now has a very drunk boy out cold in his couch and that was not good at all.

Erik retreats into his room and comes back with a blanket. Very carefully, he tucks it around Charles, trying not to think about how easy it would be to just lean down and kiss him, taste his obscenely red lips, trace his fingers on his pale skin.

Erik grits his teeth as his eyes settle on the bruise and he holds back the biting rage that anyone would dare to strike a hand at this beautiful boy. He brushes the hair away from Charles’ face and Erik pauses as he murmurs contentedly in his sleep.

Yes. He has noticed Charles. At the library. Sometimes, on the bus. From across the street. It’s not something that he was entirely willing to admit to himself until now. But Charles knew, somehow. It’s uncanny that he is able point something out the thoughts that Erik has been afraid to entertain even in the dark corners of his mind that whisper to him enticingly.

Because there really is no proper way to go about this. He really should’ve just left well enough alone, if he knew what was good for him, if he had been a better man.

Erik straightens up and heads for the kitchen. He pours himself a glass of whiskey, polishing it off in one gulp. He contemplates another glass but fears for his self-restraint if he were to be intoxicated.

Erik tries not to look at Charles’ sleeping figure as he passes by him on his way to his bedroom. He locks the door behind him and strips out of his clothes, strewing them haphazardly on the floor. Erik crawls under his sheets as he plays the night out before him. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or curse at the universe for sending Charles Xavier his way. He’s barely known the boy an hour and he’s already upending Erik’s semblance of a life.

It is a while before sleep finally comes for him.


	2. Show Me Something That Isn't Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Erik take their relationship to a new level.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know, long overdue and I am TERRIBLY SORRY. But I swear the next update will not take ASDFGHJKL; months. I received a lot of really positive feedback on this fic and I would just like to thank everyone for being so AWESOME and patient with me. This update takes the fic further into the plot now. Also, an explanation [here](http://heyweirdkid.tumblr.com/post/15805339462/so-i-may-owe-an-explanation-for-the-overly-delayed) on why this took so very long.
> 
> Title is taken from the Arcade Fire song, "Black Mirror."

It is a few days later when Charles sees Erik again. He and Raven are at the library speaking in hushed tones as the other patrons shoot them daggers and shush them, to no avail. Raven squats by the glass window overlooking the Front Desk and drags Charles down beside her.

“Well, where is he? I thought you said he goes here.” Raven's eyes sweep the room again landing on a group of sixth form students, some university-looking types, a few adults, but no Erik. Raven huffs and crosses her arms in front of her chest.

“I don't know, Raven, it's not like he comes here every day.” Charles' memory of the drunken night he spent at Erik's is hazy at best. When he awoke in the morning, Erik had not been in the flat, leaving Charles alone with a massive headache and a throat that felt like it was made of cotton in the strange, yet comfortingly familiar flat. There had been a glass of water and a seltzer on the coffee table and he’d drunk it gratefully before leaving. He hadn't wanted to wait for Erik to come home, uncertain about how he felt about a drunk teenage boy he hardly knew passed out on his couch. Charles still feels his ears burn when he thinks of the horrible first impression he must have had on Erik.

Raven suddenly grips his arm, fingernails digging into his skin, and hisses at his ear. “Oh! He's here!”

They both watch with bated breath, faces pressed against the glass as Erik approaches the front desk and Charles sees him returning a book and when the receptionist gives him a nod, Erik turns to leave the building.

“Oh no! He's leaving!” Raven doesn't remember to keep her voice down and when the elderly couple nearest to them shushes her, Raven merely waves them aside. “I told you we should've just waited for him at your place.”

Charles stands up and grabs Raven's wrist. “And _I_ told _you_ , Cain's home. So unless you want to deal with him, this was the best place to run into Erik. Now come on, he's getting away!”

They run down the stairs, aggravating a few more patrons on the way out and skid to a halt in the sidewalk as they search for Erik. He's not hard to spot, in his favourite t-shirt and paint-splattered jeans. Attached to his back is a thick, plastic tube.

Charles and Raven follow him from a safe distance and, after a few minutes, Erik enters a dingy little building.

“Charles, maybe this isn't such a good idea.” Raven hesitates at the foot of the steps, eyeing the potheads at the foyer.

“Come now, Raven, where's your sense of adventure?” Charles tugs on her hand anyway and Raven follows. She always does.

They walk through the doors just in time to see Erik talking to a tanned man with dark hair before they enter through a door with peeling red paint. Charles stops to put his ear to the door but hears nothing.

He almost falls forward when it creaks open but Raven holds onto his shirt, keeping him from falling face flat onto the floor.

“I swear, Charles. What would you do without me?”

Charles shoots her a sheepish smile and peers into the room. It is too dark to make out anything more than cloth draped over strange shapes strewn across the room, which immediately makes him think of the paintings he'd glimpsed at Erik's flat.

“What is it?” Raven's breath is hot in his ear as she tries to peer past him into the darkness.

Suddenly, Charles feels strong hands pull him forward at the same time his vision is blinded as the overhead lights flicker on. His heart is pounding as he shuts his eyes against the piercing light, mind racing, and squeezes Raven's hand in apology for dragging her into this.

But then the hands that are gripping him let go and Charles hears a sigh and a muttered curse.

“It's fine, Azazel, I know him.”

Charles' eyes flutter open his eyes at the sound of Erik's voice and sees him standing a few feet away. Erik's friend, Azazel, has his arms crossed, his dark features furrowed into a frown. Neither look too happy to see the intruders.

“Take care of it, Erik.” Azazel disappears into a back room and Erik immediately turns on Charles.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is clipped and Raven is trembling beside Charles.

“We... I just wanted to see you.” Charles feels a swell of pride that his voice betrays none of his own uneasiness. He never expected to be caught and he is still a bit shaken.

Erik runs his hand over his face and regards them under a cold gaze before raising a hand, finger pointing to the door. “Go home.”

Charles wants to ask why he and Raven can't stay but his protest dies in his throat as Raven turns heel and tugs him along. Charles steals one last look behind his shoulder but Erik's already shutting the door behind them and Charles hears a lock click shut.

\--

Later, Charles is sitting outside Erik's hallway, his homework splayed out on his lap. Charles is concentrating rather hard on a difficult question about cell division when he sees a pair of feet shuffling to a stop in front of him. He looks up and breaks into a grin when he sees Erik. Charles shoves his notes inside his backpack and scrambles to his feet.

“Hello, Erik.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I never properly thanked you.”

“And here I thought your mother never taught you better,” Erik says dryly before realising his poor choice in words. Charles stops him before he can begin to apologise.

“No. It’s alright.”

Erik shifts on his feet, fingering the keys in his hand before turning to the door. “You shouldn't be here.”

“Why not?”

Erik stops fumbling at the door and turns to face him. Charles expects to see his face contorted in anger or irritation or a mixture of both but is surprised to see that Erik looks tired, his shoulders drooping, and notices the bags under his eyes. For the first time, he feels bad for being so intrusive.

“Charles, just... go home, okay? Go out with your mates, go to parties, get pissed,” Erik's lips curl into a smile before he adds, “but stop inviting yourself to strange men's flats.”

Charles starts at the humour in his voice and stares at Erik for a moment before his wits return to him.

“I assure you, I don't do that often. Hardly at all, if I am to be honest.” Charles smiles back at Erik and bites his lips, cheeks flushing at his hazy memory of that night. It really isn't very flattering.

“Um... Thank you, Erik.” He seems to be saying that a lot these days.

Erik shrugs. “You still shouldn't be here.”

He gets his lock to open and shuffles inside his flat. Charles starts to follow him but Erik lifts a hand to his chest. “I said go home, Charles.”

“But---”

“Maybe some other day. Just not today, alright?”

Charles blinks, unsure whether to believe his ears. It is at least a semblance of an invitation. For the second time that day, Erik shuts the door on him but Charles feels light-hearted as he gathers his things and heads home.

\--

His contentment, however, is short-lived, becoming nothing but a distant memory the moment he steps into his house. Charles has by now learned to dim the thuds and creaks and groans and moans from his mum's room upstairs into background noise but it's hard to ignore the drunken rowdiness coming from the living room.

He shuts the door as quietly as possible behind him and creeps up the stairs. If he's lucky, he can make it to his room without being noticed. But the third step betrays him with a drawn-out creak (how could he have forgotten about that step?) and Charles winces as he hears his stepbrother bound into the room.

 

Even from where Charles is standing, he can smell the alcohol. Charles makes a split-second decision and dashes up the stairs before Cain can catch him. Cain's always been faster but Charles has the advantage of being sober.

"Why you little twat! Get over here!" 

But Charles doesn't stop, not even when he hears a crash behind him and he looks back for a moment to see that Cain has tripped over the third step. Charles yanks open his door just as Cain is climbing over the last step and slams the door in Cain's face, breathing heavily. 

Belatedly, he notices that his books have somehow fallen out of his book bag and Charles curses under his breath even as Cain pounds on the door and all Charles can think of is that it’s not enough to keep him out when the door stills and Charles allows himself to sink into the floor.

"You can't hole yourself up forever, Charlie boy."

A shiver runs up Charles' spine as Cain’s voice fills the dark emptiness of his room.

\--

Charles wakes the next morning to a body sore from sleeping on the floor. He peeks behind his door but, thankfully, the hallway is empty. Charles sneaks outside, past the unconscious forms of Cain's friends sprawled on the couch amidst empty beer bottles and crumpled bags of crisps.

He finds his books on the top branches of the tree outside the house and spares a moment to wonder at Cain's dedication to make his life miserable. Charles is searching around for a rock to toss at the books in the hopes of getting them loose as Erik is exiting his flat across the street. He walks over when he spots Charles, who is suddenly feeling a little embarrassed that he hasn't even changed out of yesterday’s clothes and Erik is already about to start his day.

"Charles." Erik nods at him in greeting before looking up the tree, shielding his eyes from the glaring morning sun. His eyebrow arches at the sight of the books on the branches.

"I had a bit of an accident." Charles feels a need to explain himself even though Erik doesn’t comment on the strangeness of it. Wordlessly, he hands Charles his bag and the plastic tube that he was carrying the day before and then starts to climb the tree, Charles watching in equal amounts of horror and awe.

"Oh, Erik, you don't have to do that!"

Erik looks down at him from his precarious position in one of the lower branches. "You need these books don't you?"

Charles chews on his lower lip, torn between telling the truth and not wanting to inconvenience Erik.

"Yes."

Erik climbs up the branches with practiced ease as Charles watches from below. A few times, he almost shouts as Erik slips a little but he manages to keep his grip. Erik reaches the books and begins tossing them down one by one, pages fluttering in the fall.

"Careful down there!"

When Erik re-joins him on solid ground, Charles hands him back his things.

"Thank you. You were amazing." 

Erik shoots him a wry smile. "Yeah, well, we have a lot of trees in Germany."

Germany. Of course. That makes perfect sense. Even though Erik’s English is good, there is still that lilt of an accent that betrays his roots. And there is also the matter of his surname. Charles wonders why he never figured it out himself. Oh, that’s right. He was too busy lusting after Erik to think straight.

But then Erik is serious again, his mouth parting slightly as if he is about to say something but then he shakes his head and places a hand on Charles’ shoulder.

"There was a boy in my village. Schmidt. I got into a lot of accidents, too, because of him." 

Charles looks up at Erik and he can tell from the set of Erik’s jaw, the hard glint of his eyes, the way Erik’s hand on his shoulder tightens just a little that the story of this boy, Schmidt, is not one that Erik easily shared. Charles suddenly feels an overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around Erik and let the world fall away around them. It could all go to shit and he wouldn’t care. He and Erik together, they could conquer the world. There never had to be another Cain or Kurt or Schmidt to torment them.

But Erik drops his hand from Charles’ shoulder and the magic is broken.

“I’ll see you around, Charles.”

“Bye. Thanks again.” Charles watches Erik as he disappears behind a corner before collecting his books, brushing the dust off them, and heads back inside.

\--

Charles is leafing through a copy of _Human Molecular Genetics_ when a shadow passes over the text he has been reading. “Raven, I’m sorry I haven’t returned any of your calls but do you really have to-- Oh. “ Charles smiles when he sees that it is Erik towering over him and not his best friend. “Hello, Erik.”

“Hello, Charles.” Erik takes the empty seat beside him. “Were you expecting someone else? I can leave--“

“No no no! Stay, please.” Charles curses his English complexion even as he feels the blush creeping in his cheeks and burning his ears but Erik’s smile doesn’t falter as he glances over at the journal laid out in front of Charles.

“Genetics?”

“Yes, I hope to go to university at Oxford someday.” Charles can feel himself flushing even more at the confession. His greatest, most secret dream. He hasn’t even told Raven yet, fearing her ridicule. But Erik just nods, not a single sign of derision in his handsome features.

“A brilliant mind like yours, you can do anything you set your mind to.”

Charles drops his eyes to the journal before looking back at Erik and holding his gaze. “Thank you so much, Erik. It means a lot to me.”

It’s Erik’s turn to look down now, into his jeans, looking a bit flustered as his fingernails drag at the material, worrying at a loose thread. Charles can tell that there is something that Erik wants from him, and he is silent as he waits for Erik.

He takes the opportunity to study Erik’s hands, large and calloused, littered with little nicks and cuts from all the metalwork he’s been doing. Charles starts to squirm in his seat as his eyes flick to Erik’s fingers, long and slender, and his thoughts are starting to wander to lecherous territory when Erik speaks up.

 “Charles… Would you… I mean… There’s something I’d like to show you.”

Charles lays a hand on Erik’s, stilling his fingers, and Erik glances up with the most expectant look that is doing strange things to Charles’ stomach which has nothing to do with the two-day old sandwich he had had for lunch earlier. “Oh, Erik, of course.”

\--

Charles never expected Erik to take him back to the studio that he and Raven had followed him into so he was surprised to recognise the route Erik was taking him through.  They pause at a roll-up door that Charles had failed to notice during his first trip there. As Erik fishes out a set of keys from his pocket, Charles takes a step back to admire Erik as he hooks his hands under the door, his muscles rippling from the effort of pushing it up even as the loud roar of the metal rings in his ears and bounces off the empty hallway.

He follows Erik inside through the red door and notices several other things that he had missed out on the last time he was here. For one, the room seems to be littered with more artworks, taking up every inch of empty space from the floors to the walls and even hanging from the ceiling, filled with a random collection of paintings and sculptures. There's plastic everywhere, covering the floors, across the windows, restricting the flow of sunlight into the large room. On the far side of the room is another door which is ajar and Charles can see a broom closet of an office.

The man, Azazel, doesn’t seem to be around.

Charles takes all this in and his lips tug into a smile when he sees the shark jaw sculpture form Erik’s flat and points at it. “Hey, I remember that!”

He wants to ask Erik what his sculpture is doing here but restrains himself when he remembers that Erik has brought him here for a reason. So, instead, Charles asks, “What was it that you wanted to show me?”

“Here.” Erik walks over to the other side of the room and Charles looks at the piece before him curiously. Under the thin cloth draped over it, he can’t tell what it’s supposed to be. It is tall, taller than Erik, and very wide and the top is uneven, jagged, with pointed tips but it is misshapen in a way that Charles can’t put his finger to. Erik tugs on the cloth, slowly revealing the artwork underneath, the drapes hanging limp in Erik’s hands.

Charles sucks in a deep breath when he recognises the object before him, taking in the rusty metal of the wire mesh, the steel frame that is contorted as it bends forward so that the metal chain holding the two doors together is straining under the pressure.  Something about the rust and the sharp edges and the way that the gate is twisted projects something raw and heart breaking to Charles even though he can’t understand why.

“ _Konzentrationslager_. My parents were lucky; they escaped. They always used to tell me stories when I was younger. They thought it was important for me to know where I come from, that I never forget.”

Charles is mesmerised by the sculpture, his eyes taking in ever imperfection. He can feel Erik walking closer to him and when Erik speaks again, his voice is right beside him. He lays a hand on Charles’ shoulder and lets it trail down his arm.

“One minute, my grandparents were there beside them and the next, they were being thrown inside the metal gates.”

From behind him, Erik takes in a ragged breath and there is a pause before he continues. “My uncle fought back and they shot him right there for everyone to see. I made a trip to Auschwitz to look at the camps, to see for myself how these scraps of metal were the ones holding thousands of people prisoner.”

Charles is not surprised at the tear that rolls down his cheek as Erik tells his story. He turns to face Erik, wiping his tears away with the pad of his thumb and notices that Erik’s eyes are also glistening. “Thank you, Erik.”

Charles doesn't know how it happens, doesn't realise when his body moves of its own volition. His hand reaches out to grab the collar of Erik's t-shirt and yanks him down into a kiss that is all teeth and hot air. He can feel Erik's hand at the back of his neck, tugging at his hair and Charles gasps. Erik takes the opportunity to slide his tongue along Charles' lip and then runs it along his teeth, letting it caress Charles' tongue. Charles moans with pleasure and scrabbles for Erik's crotch but Erik pulls back and Charles whimpers from the sudden break in contact.

“Charles, there’s something else I need to tell you---” Erik's voice is gruff, his hair a tangled mess, and _god_ he is breathing hard and Charles wants to know why he stopped, why they’re not fucking by now.

“Later,” he breathes, and he crashes his lips against Erik’s. Erik's hand moves to cup his face, his thumb tracing the fading bruise near his eye. Charles flinches but doesn't look away as Erik places a tender kiss on the flesh, shivering under the delicate touch before finding Charles’ mouth and brushing their lips together.

The kiss is softer this time, more languid, and Charles allows himself to taste Erik, nibbling at his lip, letting his tongue explore Erik's mouth. Cold hands are slipping under his t-shirt, mapping the skin underneath, tracing feather-light touches that send goosebumps up and down his spine. He feels the wind being knocked out of him as he is pushed against the wall and the need to breathe separates them again.

Erik rests his forehead against Charles’. They’re both breathing heavily and Charles is holding onto him like a lifeline, like if he lets go, Erik will disappear, just become a figment of his imagination. But Erik is so warm. And although their bodies are pressed flushed together, it’s not enough; there are too many layers of clothing between them. Charles’ hands slip tentatively under the waistband of Erik’s jeans and Erik lets out a groan before taking a step back.

“I can’t.” His whole body quivers as he steps away, dropping his gaze to the ground and turning his back to Charles. Charles closes the gap between them, wrapping his arms around Erik’s strong shoulders, shushing him.

“It’s okay, Erik. It’s okay. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

When Erik still cannot look at him, Charles fights back cold pang at the pit of his stomach as he rests against Erik, cheek pressed to the planes of his back.

He starts when Erik turns back toward him, face shadowed by the poor lighting but his voice is strong and it carries around the room. “Neither do you, Charles.”

Charles looks up at him and their eyes meet. Charles, the boy who is looking for some reprieve from the life that he has been living out day by day and Erik, the man who just needs a friend, someone to chase the loneliness away. And the answer is so simple, big, complicated.

Erik’s eyes dart to Charles’ hands as he trails them against Erik’s shoulders, his arms, his broad chest. They rest, splayed, on Erik’s stomach, and Charles looks at Erik, asking a silent question as he undoes the button on Erik’s jeans.  Erik answers by placing his hands on Charles’ shoulders and pushing him down so that he is kneeling. Charles slips Erik’s jeans down and they fall to the floor with a faint rustle.

It is a different kind of quiver that now shakes Erik’s body as Charles’ cool hands trace against the heated skin. Charles lets out an astonished “Oh” when he sees that he is already aroused and barely hesitates as he licks the underside of Erik’s cock. Erik lets out a hiss, his hand massaging Charles’ scalp, fingers twining into his hair.

Charles purrs under Erik’s touch and his eyes widen in surprise as Erik lets out a guttural groan and thrusts violently in his mouth. Charles gags, choking on Erik as he fills his mouth, not even taking all of Erik yet.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t---“ Erik begins to say, his brow furrowing as Charles pulls away, gasping for breath.  “Is this--- Shit, this is your first time, isn’t it?”

It is all Erik needs to know when he looks into Charles’ eyes. He starts to curse in German, pulling his trousers back up but Charles tugs on his hands.

“Please, Erik. I want this.”

Erik looks like he wants to hit Charles. He’s cocked everything up now.  Erik will move away so he won’t have to deal with his pesky little stalker neighbour and never speak to him again.

But Erik doesn’t pull his hands away from Charles, who is still clinging onto him. And he’s still breathing heavily, his cock still erect. Charles can feel it brushing against his knuckles.

After what seems like an eternity, Erik sighs. “You, _liebling_ , you will be the death of me.”

Charles doesn’t know what to answer to that. All he can do is smile back as he picks up where they left off.

\--

They take the bus back home together, Charles munching on the fish and chips that Erik insisted on buying him (“You’re too skinny for your own good. You need more food in you. Proper food.”). Erik filches some of his chips but Charles doesn’t mind.

Charles reaches out his hand to twine against Erik’s but Erik withdraws his hand at the touch, cautious of the other passengers who are already eyeing them a little too closely for comfort.

When it is time for them to part ways, Erik tugs on Charles’ hand and pulls him to a secluded alley in between his building and the one next door. His eyes are serious as he looks at Charles and Charles can’t help but steal a kiss, pressing his lips to Erik’s. Erik kisses him back before pulling away.

“Charles, stop. You must listen.” Erik pauses, makes sure that Charles is paying attention, before continuing. “Nobody can know.”

“You don’t have to worry, Erik. I can keep a secret.”

Erik searches his eyes for a moment and then nods, satisfied. “Good.” He crushes Charles into another quick kiss before he has to duck into his building and Charles has to go home.

Neither of them notices the rustle of dark blue curtains as they part.

\--

Raven is waiting for him when he walks into his room one morning after Charles spent the night at Erik’s. She takes one look at the cheeky little smirk on his face and jumps on him.

“OH MY GOD YOU TOTALLY DID IT! CHARLES YOU COMPLETE AND UTTER SLAG!”

Charles opens his mouth to defend himself against Raven’s onslaught but she continues before he can get a word in.

“No. You don’t get to rationalise your actions. I _needed_ you, Charles, and you were off having a shag!”

Charles’ eyes automatically dart around her body, searching for fresh bruises but find none. He wants to ask what Raven needed him for, but she is shoving past him. He reaches out to grab her hand but Raven pulls back and gives him such a scathing look that Charles feels like he’s just been slapped. His mouth hangs open as he looks at her.

“Don’t touch me.” And she’s gone.

\--

Erik hasn’t come home for a few days now. Charles tries to call him several times but all he gets is voicemail. He curls up in his bed, refusing to cry.

\--

Charles has the house to himself.  Kurt and Sharon have gone out. Apparently, they’ve made up again. And Cain’s with his mates or out getting arrested again (Charles doesn’t really see how the two activities differ from each other).  Raven still refuses to answer any of his text messages or phone calls or emails. Now that he knows how horrible it is to be at the receiving end of an unresponsive friend, he’d apologise, if only Raven would let him.

Charles is perched by his window when he spots Erik sauntering back home at around 2AM.  He drops the biology book he’d borrowed from the library and heads out, intending to catch up with Erik before he has the chance to go inside his flat.

He sneaks up on Erik as he is fumbling with his keys, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Bloody--- Charles! What are you doing here?”

“I was worried about you since you haven’t been home.”

“I had some things to take care of. “ Erik pauses, frowning. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“I wasn’t-- I was just…” Charles is a bit taken aback at Erik’s comment. It’s not that he’s been paying attention to Erik’s every whereabouts. Maybe he is being a bit smothering. “I’m sorry.”

Erik lets out a sigh before looking around the hallway and then pulling Charles into a kiss.

“Are you always allowed to be out this late, anyway?” Erik asks as he shuffles Charles inside his flat.

Charles wraps his arms around Erik and leans into him. Erik smells like oranges and peanut butter. That’s… new.

“Sharon and Kurt are out. Cain’s… Well, who knows where that arsehole is.”

“Lucky me then,” Erik says and Charles feels his heart flip at that smile.

“Tea?” Erik asks and Charles nods. They’re both silent as Charles settles himself on the sofa and Erik heads over to the kitchen.

“Raven’s cross with me.”

Charles isn’t sure if Erik heard him because he doesn’t get a response right away. He sinks further into the couch, remembering the first time he was here, under not quite favourable circumstances. It’s strange to think that he’s now more than welcome inside Erik’s flat.

“It’s probably best if you let her blow off some steam first but if it’s something you did, you should make it up to her.”

Charles starts at Erik’s words as he settles beside Charles and accepts the steaming cup that Erik offers him, mulling over his words as Erik sits beside him, a warm comfort.

“And if she won’t talk to you, it’s up to you to initiate it. You’re her friend. That’s what friends do.”

Charles takes a sip of his tea. Erik is right, though. It _is_ his fault that Raven is cross with him and he can’t wait for her to forgive him because who knows how long that will take? Raven’s always been there for him, and he hasn’t been the friend that she needs him to be.

Charles leans against Erik’s shoulder. Curled up with a hot cup of tea just like this with him, there is nowhere else he’d rather be.

Erik mumbles something incomprehensible as he nibbles at Charles’ ear and Charles shivers a little.

“Would you like to stay the night? I mean, I’ve an early start tomorrow so we can’t… I mean. It’s just to sleep, you understand?”

That’s new, too. But Charles doesn’t wonder about it as he beams up at Erik and captures his lips into another kiss. “That’s fine with me.”

\--

Charles decides to go to Raven’s house the next afternoon and barges into her room.

“Look, Raven, I know you’re cross with me and you have every right to be but you’re being petty and--” he says as he forces open the door. Charles takes one look at Raven and a strange, dark-haired girl he’s never met before sprawled half-naked on sheets that Raven’s had since she was a little girl and feels the tips of his ears heat up in embarrassment.

Raven looks up with fire in her eyes and throws a pillow at the door, but not before Charles can slam it back close. “Raven, I am so sorry! I didn’t know that you had a guest!”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Charles! Knock before you enter, why don’t you!”

Charles can hear dull thuds coming from the room and then the shuffling of feet before the door opens once more. Raven’s _friend_ puckers her lips at him before she slips out the front door and Charles dares a look inside the room. Raven’s thrown on one of his old kits and she still looks like she wants to bite his head off. Charles can’t exactly blame her, either.

“So? What are you doing here, anyway? You never come here if you can help it.”

“That’s not true! I--“ Charles finds that he can’t continue his sentence because Raven was, in fact, pointing out the truth. It’s not like he’s done it on purpose, though. Charles has seen enough of broken homes without adding Raven’s into the mix, no matter how selfish that is of him.

“I’m sorry, Raven,” he says instead.

Raven just shrugs and sits down on the bed, patting the space next to her and Charles goes to join her.

A heavy silence fills the space between them but they’ve been friends a while, and gone through so much together that nothing needs to be said. Raven understands that Charles knows he’s been a prat. Charles offers her a small smile.

“So, who was she?” he asks, jerking his thumb over the door to indicate Raven’s mystery guest.

Raven’s eyebrow darts up as she gives him a strange look. “You really don’t remember Angel Salvadore? You know, from the party?”

It takes a moment for the name to register in Charles’ head. The night had held such conflicting emotions that he’d blanked out bits of it but he did recall Angel Salvadore.

“Now I do. But what about Hank? I thought he fancied you.”

“Yeah, well.”

Charles thinks he ought to drop the subject because he can tell Raven’s not up for talking about it anymore but he’s never learned to leave well enough alone.

“So I’m a prat for shagging Erik but it’s okay that you hooked up with Angel?”

“Well, I needed _someone_ to talk to.” Charles wants to quip that they weren’t doing much talking but Raven shoots him a look that says “Don’t push it. I’m still mad at you.” and he thinks that maybe it’s time for him to start being the better friend he said he’d be.

“So you and Erik, huh?”

“Yeah… it kind of just... happened.”

“Ow!” Charles exclaims as Raven punches his arm.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

“I was going to! I was just… distracted.”

“You _slag_!”

They’re quiet again and Charles doesn’t know what else she wants from him. He really does want to make it up to her, though.

“Do you want go to the aquarium?”

Raven looks a lot less murderous and even ventures a smile at him. “Sure. Alright if I bring Angel along?”

“I would love for her to come.”

Even though they both know that Raven would have invited her anyway whether or not Charles agreed.

\--

Angel turns up at the aquarium with Sean and Alex, who brings along Hank, who was with Armando and a girl Charles has seen around school before but never really talked to who is introduced as Moira.

Charles doesn’t mind the slight variation to his plans, though; they weren’t much to begin with. Perhaps it’s better that there are other people around to act as his buffer against Raven’s anger at him.

He watches as Raven and Angel hold hands and Hank looks on with slumped shoulders. Alex and Darwin are doing their best to cheer him up while Sean is chatting Moira up as he talks about fish and she actually looks interested, bloody hell.

Charles tries to remember the last time that things were this normal. Just a bunch of teenagers goofing off, without worrying about things like his mother being drunk or about an arsehole dad who vents his frustrations in life on his daughter. And he can’t recall because Charles doesn’t remember a life before Kurt and Cain and seeing the bruises on Raven’s delicate skin for the first time but not being able to do anything about it because Raphael Darkholme is bigger and stronger and his policeman friends would just take his side anyway.

“Hey, Charles!”

Charles looks up at Alex and Armando sniggering at him.

“Thought we lost you there for second.  C’mon, Sean’s gonna show us how to get close to the shark tank!”

“Is that even safe?!” Charles asks but Alex has his arm over his shoulder and forces him along.

\--

“Remind me again which one of you thought that swimming with the sharks would be a good idea?” Erik asks, which only gets the others laughing again. To an outsider, the slight quirk in Erik’s lips might look like he doesn’t approve of the teens’ shenanigans but Charles can tell that Erik is secretly amused at them and he’s just trying to play the responsible adult part to show it.

Needless to say, they had been caught trying to break in, maybe for their own good. The aquarium was about to call the police but Charles was able to convince them to let the matter go since they’re all still underage, as long as they had an adult pick them up from the premises, with whom the aquarium security wished to discuss the teens’ disciplinary measures. Also, they were banned from the aquarium for about six months.

All in all, they got out of it easy and Charles has never felt so exhilarated.

“I’m supposed to remind you that you’re not to show yourselves at the aquarium for half a year but I guess that isn’t going to keep you from coming back anyway. Off you go, then. Try not to cause too much trouble.”

There had been tentative plans of going over to Armando’s place since his siblings are all out and he has his house to himself. Charles hadn’t exactly said although he’d implied that he was going to join them. But now that Erik is here, he would much rather go with him and watch him work or do whatever it is that Erik does. Charles looks from his new friends, who are quickly disappearing as they head off and Raven, sending him death glares, to Erik who notices the conflict inside of him.

“Go,” Erik says but Charles is still unsure. Erik takes hold of his hand and twines them together. “Go. I’ll see you tonight.”

And with that promise, Charles slips his hands from Erik’s and jogs to catch up with his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Human Molecular Genetics is an actual semi-monthly scientific journal, published by The Oxford University Press.


	3. I Need You (More Than You Need You)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles wants something from Erik.
> 
> Nineteen Stars - Meg and Dia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise ahead for the German. I only used a web translator orz

Charles and Erik never meet at the same place, what with Erik wary that people will start to notice and Charles not wanting to risk being seen. They don’t usually stay out for long. The library is too public, but they would usually do a quick stroll by the harbour for some fish and chips or stop by at some café before heading over to Erik’s flat where Erik does his best to work on his latest project while Charles distracts him, kissing him in the back of his neck, running his hands across Erik’s broad chest. Erik can never resist him for long.  
  
Raven sometimes joins them when they’re out and brings Angel, who gets along with Erik just fine. It’s Raven who doesn’t take much of a liking to Erik. She’s subtle about it, but the dark looks she gives him are not lost on Charles. He’d recognise that reptilian glare anywhere, and Raven only reserved it for the people she disliked most. Sometimes, Charles would earn that glare from her when he was being a total prat and deserved it.  
  
Charles is lounging on Raven’s bed one evening, flipping through one of the tabloids that are a permanent sight on her desk before fixing her a gaze. “Raven, why don’t you like Erik?”  
  
Raven doesn’t look up from where she is painting her toenails different colours. She gives Charles a shrug, messing up the varnish, and cries out in frustration before reaching out for the nail polish remover. Raven probably thinks that she appears disinterested about the matter but Charles can see right through her. Sometimes, it’s like he can read her mind, like he knows her better than even she does. But Raven’s not fooling him by acting nonchalant, and she knows it. “It’s not that I don’t like him— he seems decent enough— there’s just something about him I don’t trust. How well _do_ you know him, Charles?”  
  
Charles pauses, pretending to read an article on the tabloid before he replies, “Enough.”  
  
They drop the matter because it’s not worth fighting about but Raven and Angel have stopped tagging along.  
  
\--  
  
Azazel is visiting relatives in Russia so Erik borrows his car and takes Charles to Azazel’s country house. Charles sticks his head out the window and lets the wind whip his hair behind him. The drive is peaceful and they play a game that Erik teaches him called _Stadt, Land, Fluss_ where they compete in naming a city, a country and a river that all start with the same letter. Charles has a feeling that Erik lets him win several of the rounds.  
  
They snog at the loo of a petrol station. It’s so typically teenage that Charles giggles as Erik tugs at his belt. Erik covers his mouth to muffle his moans, planting feverish kisses on his neck, calloused hands tracing a rough path on his feverish skin. Charles comes in spasms, knees banging on the flimsy metal divisions in the cramped stall. The patrons shoot them strange looks when they emerge, hair rumpled and clothes dishevelled. Erik pays for Charles’ ice cream and then they leave.  
  
Azazel was being humble when he called his holiday home a house. The lodge is spacious, with a massive master bedroom and at least twenty guest bedrooms scattered across three storeys in a traditional stone building. There is a small shed to the side and a fenced-off area that Charles supposes used to house chickens once. Erik explains that Azazel hardly visits even when he is in England, which is why the front yard badly needs a trim and the whole place gives an air of neglect, with dust littering what is left of the beautiful china and the antique furniture. He and Erik take one of the better-kept bedrooms on the first floor.  
  
Charles is delighted to discover the large lake behind the lodge. The late afternoon air is a bit chilly but he starts to strip to his boxers immediately and jumps in, splashing water everywhere. He doesn’t notice when Erik joins him, grabbing him by the waist, lifting Charles up like he weighs nothing (which is somewhat true— Erik’s always pointing out how slight he is) and hoists him over his shoulder, spinning them around, sending Charles into a fit of laughter that rings out around the still countryside. When it starts to rain, they head back inside and warm up by the fireplace.  
  
That evening, Erik pins Charles’ thighs to the bed as he takes Charles in his mouth, sucking and licking and biting in the most delicious way and Charles comes, crying out Erik’s name, his voice echoing in the empty house.  Erik crawls up to him and Charles rests in the crook of his shoulder. They link their hands together and they fall asleep.  
  
\--  
  
Erik holes himself away in the kitchen for most of the morning and doesn’t let Charles near his cooking. The weather is unusually cooperative as the sun shines in between puffy white clouds. They stop at a clearing and set up their picnic. Charles finds himself enjoying Erik’s goulash, which Erik says is a recipe that his mother gave him. Charles curls his leg against Erik’s thigh as Erik talks a little about his mum, running a finger along Erik’s shoulder blade.  
  
He pretends not to notice that Erik’s gone a bit teary-eyed and places a kiss on Erik’s neck, tracing up to his jaw before pressing his lips against Erik’s. Erik kisses him back, violently, and pushes Charles off, hovering over him as he leans on the palms of his hands. His knee is wedged between Charles’ thighs and Charles grinds against it, sending Erik trembling above him.  
  
“Erik. Erik, I want you to—“Charles fiddles with Erik’s belt, moving obscenely against Erik’s knee and starting to get hard.  
  
“Charles, stop. You know my answer already.”  
  
Charles has heard enough of Erik’s usual arguments: Charles is too young, too fragile. Erik doesn’t want to hurt him. It doesn’t change the fact that he wants to feel Erik inside him, driving into him, fucking him sore. But Erik doesn’t even give him a chance to argue back and rolls off Charles, and returns the used dishes back inside the picnic basket. Charles sits up and helps out. Their fingers brush when he hands back the blanket and Erik recoils.  
  
Later that evening, they barely speak over dinner and sleep on different sides of the bed. Charles is the one who relents and slithers up behind Erik’s sleeping figure, wrapping an arm around him. He is surprised when Erik pulls him closer and nuzzles the back of Erik’s neck.  
  
\--  
  
Reality crashes back down on Charles the moment he steps back inside his house. He knows something is wrong when he sees the door ajar. He takes the steps one at a time and peers past the front door.  
“Hello?”

The sobbing doesn’t even register in his mind until Charles notices that it’s stopped. His hands clench at his side as he wonders what Kurt’s done this time—he really doesn’t want to have to deal with this right now. Charles is about to head up to his room when his mother appears by the kitchen, tears streaking her cheeks. She advances toward Charles, who is rooted to the spot at the look she is giving him. He winces as she grabs his arm, and he can smell the alcohol in her breath when she yells at him.

“And where the bloody hell have you been?”

“At Raven’s.”

“Don’t just go away like that without telling me! I’m still your mother!”

Charles doesn’t understand what’s happening. It’s not the first time he’s spent the weekend away from home. He used to let his mum know where he was going but he hasn’t done that in the recent weeks because he hasn’t seen much of her and it’s been a while since his mum’s been sober enough to care about his whereabouts. Charles wants to make the most out of this, though, while he still can. He places his arms around his mum in a tight hug.

“I’m sorry, Mum. I won’t do it again.”

His mother stiffens in his embrace before Charles can feel her opening up. She strokes the back of his head like she used to when he was six and came home with scratches from falling off the monkey bars. All too soon, she steps away from him and heads back towards the kitchen, wiping the tears away from her eyes. Charles scurries behind her, placing an arm around her shoulder. They sit across from each other in the kitchen counter, sipping tea. It is the closest thing to love that Charles has felt for his mum in a long time.  
  
\--  
  
It’s raining and Charles doesn’t feel like going out, even though his mobile beeps several times as he receives several text messages. Charles drops the phone back onto the bed when he sees that it’s just Sean and Armando. He’s waiting for a text from Erik, who hasn’t been home since yesterday and promised to message him but Charles tries not to expect too much. Erik’s not really one to call or text. And Raven mentioned she would be at Angel’s so he’s not counting on her, either.  
  
It’s still a wonder to him that she seems to be a different person when she’s with Raven than she is with him. Raven seems to have different sides of her that she shows to the world, like a chameleon. To Charles, she is the girl who he met shivering in the back of a pub because her father was drunk again and she wanted to run away and ever since then they’ve been the best of friends.. To Armando and the boys, she is the mastermind, the one who always has something up her sleeve. To Angel, she is the smitten girlfriend who talks with her for hours on end every night even though they’d just spent the whole day together, who snuggles with her in the park and snogs her even when people give them looks of disapproval and scurry away, covering little children’s eyes.  
  
Not that he begrudges Raven that. He’s seen the way she and Angel look at each other and Charles is glad for her. Raven deserves to be happy with Angel, just as he deserves to be happy, too. With Erik. If only he would text.  
  
Charles jumps as his mobile rings. He glances at the display and pulls his sheet over him and grabs the ratty old thing from the table beside his bed. The light from the screen emits an eerie blue glow as he stares at it from under the sheets.

 _Erik_. He holds his breath and presses the green button to receive the call.  
  
“Charles.” There is static on the other end but Charles pretends that Erik is in the room with him. It dawns on Charles that Erik has never actually been in his room but, oh, what he would give to change that. Erik, in his room, as they lie on the sheets that have been a silent witness to his longing for Erik. Erik pinning him to the bed and having his way with Charles, who bends and writhes under Erik’s touch like one of his metal sculptures. Charles doesn’t see it happening anytime soon, though. He can’t even begin to imagine what his mum would think if she knew what he was up to.  
  
“Hello, Erik.” _Where are you?_ he doesn’t ask.  
  
“I just… wanted to hear your voice. Are you all right? You sound unwell.”  
  
Charles throws the sheets off of him and sits up on his bed as if Erik can see him moping about in his room. “Yes. I’m just tired.”  
  
“Okay. Oh, one moment.” Erik's voice is muffled as he speaks with someone else, but it's not long before he is on the phone again. “I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll see you soon.”  
  
Charles doesn’t want to let Erik go just yet but manages not to sound despondent as he says goodbye. _Not soon enough._  
  
\--  
  
Charles finds that he enjoys doing his homework at Erik’s flat. Erik’s usually working on a project so there is a silence that hangs about them, punctuated only by Erik’s pencil scratching on paper or the rustling of paper as Charles turns over to a new page. Charles ponders on his maths homework as he is stretched out in Erik’s bed. He’s so engrossed in the problem that he doesn’t notice Erik spin around in his wooden swivel chair to look at him. Charles flinches from his notebook when a small piece of rubber eraser flicks onto it and he looks up at Erik, frowning.  
  
“You look like you’re having a difficult time with that.”  
  
Charles really can’t stay sour at him, especially with that amused smirk on his face. “Maths. It’s not my best subject.”  
  
The chair creaks as Erik relieves it of his weight and he walks over to Charles, sitting down beside him on the bed. “Oh. I remember this from—“ Erik stops himself and glances at Charles before focussing back on the numbers and symbols in Charles’ neat handwriting and says, “This is easy.”  
  
He takes hold of Charles’ pencil and it flies across the paper as Erik solves the problem that Charles has been mulling over for a good ten minutes now, all the while explaining the solution to Charles, who feels thick that he didn’t understand it by himself. Erik explains a lot better than his old fart of a teacher, which of course leads him to fantasising.  
  
“Hey, what are you smiling about?” Erik sets the pencil down and bumps his shoulder companionably.  
  
“Just wondering what it would be like if you were my teacher.”  
  
“Kinky.”  
  
Erik walks back to his chair and hunches over his new sketch. Charles pushes off the bed and follows him.  
  
“Erik, please.” Charles places a hand at the back of Erik’s neck and while the other rests on top of Erik’s chest, holding him down, and straddles Erik’s hip. _You won’t hurt me._  
  
“Charles—” But any objections that Erik might have made is cut off as Charles presses their lips together. Erik makes little protesting noises at first but it’s half-hearted and Charles lets his hands travel down Erik’s back, fingernails scraping against the skin, sending shivers up Erik. Erik lets out a moan as Charles traces his lips up Erik’s neck, nibbling at his ear. Charles has been waiting so long for this moment and now that he finally has him, Erik tastes even better than he’d imagined.  
  
Charles hooks his fingers under the band of Erik’s boxers and Erik lets out a grunt before grasping Charles’ wrists in a firm grip. Their eyes lock and they’re both silent but it’s that same argument again between them. Charles is too fragile, too young. They shouldn’t. This is wrong. But Charles isn’t hearing any of that anymore. He lifts his hips and grinds against Erik who draws in a ragged breath as Charles’ fingernails dig into his hip and he lets out a strangled cry.

Erik’s grip on his wrist tightens and it’s starting to hurt a little but Charles doesn’t care. He wants to hear that broken sound from Erik again. He hikes up a little and starts to move against Erik once more and Erik buries his face in Charles’ neck. He gasps as he feels Erik biting into the sensitive skin before running his tongue along the same spot.  
  
Charles can feel the hard table pressing against his lower back and it’s less than comfortable even as Erik leans into him and crushes their lips together, fucking Charles’ mouth with his tongue. His hands are roving along Charles’ side, finally letting go of his wrist so Charles slides his hands under Erik’s boxers, gripping the firm muscle of Erik’s arse. Erik breaks away from the kiss, his lips hovering against Charles’ and their breaths mingle together. Their eyes meet and Erik’s still wordlessly asking, “Are you sure?” and Charles answers by slipping Erik’s boxers down his thighs, to his knees, and Charles feels a sense of pride at how hard Erik is for him. He starts to pull at his own boxers but Erik places his hands on Charles’ and pulls him into another kiss, biting at Charles’ lip before tugging Charles’ boxers down himself. Erik throws them to the side and when Charles settles on Erik’s lap again, their cocks brush together, sending a jolt of pleasure up his spine.  
  
Charles reaches out behind him and fumbles with Erik’s drawers, his hands brushing against the bottle of lube that he knows Erik keeps there and shoves it into Erik’s hand. Erik shoots him an amused look before pouring some of the cool liquid into Charles’ hand. His eyes shut as Charles prepares him, stroking him, his thoughts racing as he imagines Erik inside of him, finally joining together and being one person. Erik thrusts into his hand, letting out delicious moans that make Charles so hard he fights the urge to wank off to the chorus of Erik’s pleasure. Because he wants to savour this, what Erik will give him, what Erik will do to him.  
  
Erik is panting for breath, sweat trickling down his forehead and he places a hand on Charles’. “Enough. Shit, you’ve gotten so much better.”  
  
They pause for a moment to catch their breaths. Charles clings to Erik, who has never looked so devastatingly handsome, and Charles feels an ache in the back of his chest at the surge of longing he has for Erik.  
  
When Erik finally moves to slicks his hand with the lube, Charles clenches involuntarily at the sight of Erik’s long fingers. But Erik doesn’t notice.  
  
“Just… Tell me if it hurts, okay?”  
  
Charles nods against Erik’s shoulder and then he feels Erik’s finger sliding in, slowly, slowly. This time, Charles does clench against Erik, back arching against the desk. Nothing could have prepared him for this. Even though he knows that it’s Erik, Charles can’t help but resist even as Erik presses tender kisses along his jaw, shushing him and caressing his back. “Just relax.”  
  
Charles tries to do as he is told, breath catching in his throat as Erik’s finger slides even deeper into him than he ever thought possible and _when will this end_ and then Erik stops and Charles can feel his knuckles along his backside and—  
  
“Fuck fuck fuck… Eriiiiik!” Charles bucks against him as Erik curls his finger, his other hand steadying Charles against the desk lest their heads would bang together. Charles’ knees bang against the back of Erik’s chair, squirming under Erik and lets out a surprised grunt as Erik slips out before adding another finger in. It’s a tight fit and Charles tries not to battle the alien feeling inside of him because he doesn’t want to stop until he has Erik inside of him. He holds in a cry as Erik’s fingers scissor him, stretching him even tighter, drawing out ragged gasps from Charles.  
  
Erik stills for a moment but Charles has barely even caught his breath when Erik thrusts even deeper into him and fuck he’s found the most perfect little spot that sends Charles writhing under Erik, begging for more. Erik teases him a little bit more, his other hand somehow sliding its way between them to grip Charles’ neglected cock and grips the base painfully just as Charles is about to come and slips his fingers out of Charles, who whimpers from the loss of contact.  
  
“Up.”  
  
Charles lifts his hips as Erik aligns himself, and lets out a gasp as Erik’s cock snags upon entry.  Erik’s hands rest at Charles’ side guiding him back down to his lap.  
  
“Slow. That’s it. Don’t rush.” Erik whispers to him like a spooked horse, his hands soothing as they run up and down Charles side. Charles chokes on his breath as he can feel Erik’s cock driving deeper, deeper into him and he’s starting to tear up at the pain. Erik pulls him in for a kiss, brushing the tears away with his thumb.  
  
“Just breathe, Charles. You’re doing great— Oh, fuck, you’re tight.” Erik is shaking under him, his hips quivering, and he bites his own lips, drawing blood. Charles leans into him and licks the red away, tasting the metallic tang to distract himself from the pain and the alien sensation pushing into him, his hips stuttering as he lowers himself. Erik’s losing his own battle, making the most wanton sounds as he tries not to thrust up into Charles, grunting as Charles jumps up a little, shaking from the effort.  “Sorry.”  
  
Finally, _finally_ , he is fully seated and it’s strange to feel so full, with Erik filling out the spaces that Charles didn’t even know were empty. They settle like that for a few moments, breathing heavily as Charles is getting used to Erik inside of him. Charles can feel himself on the brink—he knows he won’t last too long.  
  
“Are you all right?” Erik is brushing his sweat-soaked hair away from his eyes, tracing a thumb along Charles’ jaw, brushing his lower lip. Charles parts his lips so Erik can slide his thumb inside and Erik’s breath catches as Charles bites into it, sucking and licking and Erik thrusts up into him, making Charles moan and oh, that felt _good_. He starts to move and lets out a sharp breath as Erik’s cock hits that same spot, sending sparks of white up his vision.  
  
“So hard for me. _Lassen Sie mich diese._ ” Erik starts to mutter some more in German, Charles doesn’t understand what he’s saying but it’s surprisingly hot and gets him even harder, which he didn’t think was even possible. Erik takes hold of his cock and the friction is so delicious, Erik’s calloused hands jerking him while Erik is inside him. It’s like their minds are connecting as they give into the pleasure, as Charles gives Erik something that he has never given anyone before.  Erik knows just how to unravel him, begging for more, scrabbling for just a little more skin, a little more friction, their two bodies joined as one. Charles’ lips come into contact with anything that he can, Erik’s ear, his cheeks, his forehead.

Charles comes without warning, crying out Erik’s name as he splatters white all over their stomachs. Erik isn’t too far behind and he jerks inside of Charles as Charles is still riding out his wave of pleasure. They stay like that for a while before Charles can trust his legs to support him as he pulls away. Charles winces as his arse protests. A shower would feel nice right about now. He twines his fingers against Erik’s and tugs him towards the bathroom. He won’t be able to take Erik again, at least not tonight, but he would like to stand under the water and just hold him and never let go.  
  
Erik’s eyebrow quirks up before he lets out a little laugh. “You’re insufferable.” But he lets Charles pull him up anyway and they stumble towards the bathroom together.  
  
\--

It’s been a while since it’s just been Charles and Raven. He stops by her house but she’s not home. When he rings her, she tells him she’s at Angel’s. She starts to giggle about something as she speaks on her mobile and Charles is about to hang up but she agrees to meet him at the corner shop.

They fall into their old routine. Raven distracts the clerk behind the counter while Charles nicks a bottle of vodka. They’re quick to scamper away when the shop assistant notices and gives chase but Charles and Raven know they’re not in any danger. The CCTV at this particular shop’s always been shite and these streets have been their playground; they know every possible hiding place.

They cosy up among the shadows of a footbridge, sharing the bottle between them. Raven gushes about Angel encouraging her to go back to her natural red hair and how Angel wants to go to dance school in London and Raven plans to take up fashion design and they’re going to share a flat together.

Charles swells with pride at how Raven isable to make those decisions but sad that he’s only hearing about this now. Things are happening so fast and it feels like Raven is slipping away from him.

When Raven asks about Erik, Charles looks up from where he’s dangling his feet above the water. Raven’s tucking her hair behind her ear as she turns away from him. Charles recognises the gesture. He could tell though, even without looking at her, that she was just being polite. \Instead he says, “I’ve been talking with Erik about going to Oxford. He thinks it’s a good idea.”

Raven faces him and Charles is afraid that she’ll laugh at him as he tells her about his dream to study genetics but Raven nods and smiles and lets him prattle on. Charles doesn’t know why he didn’t tell her in the first place. Raven’s always been a good sounding board. It’s probably just because nothing else mattered so much to him before.

Charles picks himself up and takes her hand. They head to a playground and spend the rest of the afternoon, laughing as they try to see which of them can swing higher.

\--

Charles is mostly sobered up by the time he stumbles back home. He turns around when someone taps him on the shoulder and grins when he sees it’s Erik. He leans into Erik’s touch and wraps an arm around Erik’s waist as Erik tousles Charles’ hair.

“I think you need a pastime other than getting pissed.”

“I’m not pissed!”

Erik laughs as Charles pouts up at him. “If you say so.” They stop there in the middle of the street, and Charles is about to lean up for a kiss when Erik jerks away from him and looks at something behind Charles. Charles’ blood turns cold as he spins around and sees Sharon fumbling with her keys in their porch.

Charles runs his thumb along Erik’s knuckles before letting go of his hand. He rushes to catch up with Sharon and they head inside together.

Charles settles at his favourite spot by his window. Erik is watching telly from his sofa, and looks up, smiling as their eyes meet. He reaches for his mobile and sends out a text. Charles scrambles for his mobile as it beeps and laughs as he reads Erik’s text message: “Stop watching me, you creepy stalker.”

Charles taps out a reply: “Stop trying to seduce me then.”

“You call me sitting in my sofa in nothing but my boxers and watching telly seducing?”

“Yes. I find everything you do fascinating.”

It takes a while for Erik to reply. Charles picks up the book on his lap and resumes reading when his mobile vibrates.  “Turn on the telly. I’m watching repeats of Inspector Morse.”

Charles grins and hops off the bay window. He snuggles under the covers and does as Erik asked. They text until Charles falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Stadt, Land, Fluss - City, River, Lands  
> *Lassen Sie mich diese - letting me have this
> 
>  
> 
> Mini-update. Ish. Things are getting kinda crazy here. I may not be able to update for a while. Keep posted on my[ tumblr.](http://heyweirdkid.tumblr.com)


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